


And The Tower Comes Falling Down

by CityofFallenAngels



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityofFallenAngels/pseuds/CityofFallenAngels
Summary: Mycroft has hypoglycemia, which he keeps as a secret from others. It doesn't end well.





	And The Tower Comes Falling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello, hello peeps! I'm a master of writing stories when it's ridiculously late at night, apparently!

It is no secret fact that Mycroft likes sweets.

No. He _loves_ sweets. And by sweet he doesn't mean the refined candy in wrappers, but rather the kind that's been brilliantly and artistically transformed into towering cakes and glistening pies, jelly, log cake, Christmas cake, fudge, molten chocolate lava cakes…you get the point. Sweets.

Mycroft doesn't normally love things. That disgusting word is reserved for sentimental wimps. But if there was one thing he _had_ to say he loved…it would be sweets.But just liking sweets isn't the only reason he adores them so much.

He craves them. His body has a….defect that is not found in your average people. It was simple enough. It wasn't some kind of threatening illness, as long as he kept it in check.

Of course being hypoglycemic means he has to be very, very careful of his blood sugar levels, and he has to be aware of his food intake. But he was actually terrible at keeping track of his food, as much as his brother loved to mock him on his daily and apparently voracious eating habits. When there were wars about to break out and stupid presidents and ministers ruling the world, the last thing he was thinking about was a fat glistening red lobster.

So more times than not, his brilliant assistant and quite possibly life saver, Anthea, would force a plate of sandwich or meal suddenly in front of his documents, giving him a particular look that said he had to eat. Without her, he thinks he could go by a week without eating. This is also why he orders catering from a bunch of places for his daily meals. The reasons being, A. He has no cooks because he needs his privacy, B. Security issues, C. He can't cook anything more complex than scrambled eggs and D. He simply doesn't have the time (and skill). Even if he cooked said eggs there's a possible chance there could be an important message or call on his phone and he'd come back and find his kitchen on fire. And the only reason why he was mentioning this was because it almost happened once. The eggs were an incinerated pile of carbon when he returned fuming after an idiotic call with an moronic president. 

So with that being said, it is a huge problem when Anthea falls ill with a bad case of flu. He immediately sends her on leave. His temporary assistant, a young man, isn't aware of his problem. It's not something he shares anyway. He's sure he can handle himself for one week.

It's a particular day where he ends up working with his brother on a unique case. They're in a building of sorts, to capture an affiliate of Mycroft's who's been suspected to be doing illegal things. The only reason why Mycroft's even bothered to leave his office is because this associate happens to be a very close associate of his, and he was suspected to be leaking _intelligence information._ Mycroft wants to make sure before he prosecutes his own people. It's a trailing game more than anything, following his pattern and every move and call he makes. They've been out for hours when Mycroft feels it.

He doesn't know how to describe it. He suddenly remembers it's the seventh hour they've been out. They've been out since 3 o' clock in the afternoon, and now it's almost 10 at night. Grimly, he remembers he also missed lunch because he was too caught up with work. Which means he hasn't eaten anything the entire day, except for some lifesavers. That is really, really not good. Panic trickles into him. He quickly reaches to his breastpocket for his emergency energy food bar.

It's not there.

He swallows. That's alright. Just a while more. They're close to cornering this man as they trail him. They come to another building, where they finally get the evidence they need. Indeed the man is leaking out information to spies. This was a serious thing that would agitate Mycroft, but he finds he can't react much.

It is only a few minutes later that he realises Sherlock is talking to both him and John.

"…we've almost got him," he hears his brother say. "Just a while more….meeting…"

He turns to his brother, trying to listen when he realises sweat is rolling down his face. The words drift in and out.

Sherlock is walking away with John now, the both of them whispering urgently in the dark. He forces his feet forward, feeling another wave of dizziness hit him. He can't speak. His tongue doesn't want to cooperate. He raised a hand, which he realises is trembling, and clamps down on his brother's shoulder. Sherlock turns around with a 'What the fuck' expression. Holmeses are not touchy people and holding one's shoulder is certainly _not_  normal.

Mycroft opens his mouth to speak, wanting to say, no, fool, I am not touching you out of affectionate gesture, but nothing comes out. He wants to tell them…..tell them something. His consciousness is slipping away rapidly as he stumbles forward. Sherlock's face blurs away as his knees lock. _Oh, fuck_ , he thinks.

And he's gone.

* * *

 

He awakes slowly. It's like trying to swim out of a deep pool. He can hear murmers, voices that are fading in and out. He blinks his eyes open dazedly and when his vision adjusts, find two pairs of eyes staring intently at him. One is a very concentrated pair of blue eyes quite similar to his own, and the other a pair of wide dark blue grey ones looking at him in a rather caring way. There's something soft dabbing his forehead. He groans and tries to push it away.

"Shh, relax, it's okay." It's John's voice, soothing, doctorly, calming.

And also, there is…apple juice in his mouth? He realises there's a straw in between his lips, and he is currently propped in a slightly inclined position on a folded pile of jackets and coats. John is getting juice into his mouth while dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. 

Sherlock is the first to speak.

"You are _such_ an idiot." He helpfully points out. His expression also conveys the same intention in a more blatant way.

John shakes his head. "You're lucky Sherlock caught you before you hit your head. You were _white_. You looked like the shade of paper. I don't think I've ever seen someone so pale before. Except a corpse."

Mycroft's eyelids flutter slowly as he gets back to himself. The sugary sweet apple juice is really helping and he sucks on it like nectar. His memory is very patchy. "Did I faint?"

"Oh, yeah. Like a damsel. You held Sherlock's shoulder, and then your eyes rolled back and you fell right into him. Needless to say you gave us quite the scare."

"What about...what about that agent?"

"We've got enough evidence to prove a case. The recorders picked up the whole conversation before you did your fainting act on us. We were actually about to pick it up." John frowned as his voice took on a gentler tone. "Mycroft, why didn't you tell us you are hypoglycemic?"

"It's not something I share with people."

Sherlock looks almost sheepish. "I might have also deleted that information about you."

"My several childhood incidents too much to bear?"

"I thought it was useless since we've all grown up and would know how to take care of ourselves."

"That is hilarious...coming...from you..."

"Come on, finish that juice. That's it," John says gently as Mycroft has a lull in his sipping. He is very tired and can't hold the juice carton up. His head lolls slightly on the folded coat. He feels better, though. At least he doesn't want to throw up anymore. "We need to check your blood sugar later. You're still a little dizzy." John observes, assisting Mycroft with the carton and straw.

"Where did you get the juice?" Mycroft asks randomly.

"Sherlock got it, actually. From the vending machine. To his credit, Sherlock immediately realised what was going on and sprinted away."

He realises Sherlock has another juice carton tucked under his arm. This time its orange flavour. Both apple and orange are his favourite flavours. Apple juice is a very familiar drink to him in his childhood. In fact, most juice cartons are a very familiar drink to him. Orange, lemon, blueberry...whatever keeps his blood sugar going. It gets boring after a while so they used to switch up the flavours a bit. Looks like Sherlock hadn't forgotten. The strangest one he got, which was blended by Mummy, was mulberries mixed with spinach, barley, pear and tomato, which he promptly spat out and swore never to drink vegetable juice again. Mummy hadn't been happy when he told her he'd rather drink rat poison. Energy bars were also really useful. He liked the chocolate one...and apple...The taste gives him a weird sense of nostalgia. He was really getting off topic. An effect of the wooziness. His thoughts were like mixed water.

John's voice pulls him back to reality.

"Mycroft, don't fall alseep. Come on now, stay with us." There's a soft pat on his cheek. Mycroft blinks open his eyes. "Do you usually faint from this? When was the last time this happened?"

"No..." he shook his head. "The last time was...in Koscovo, I think."

It had been a very, very bad situation and not one Mycroft wanted to remember. He had never felt so desperate for sugar in his life. 

John looks surprised and looks like he wants to ask something, but decides not to. He clears his throat. "This is a serious condition. Any later and it could be life threatening."

"Understood, Doctor Watson."

John grinned. "Well the good thing is, now I get why you like sugary things."

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments. If you enjoyed this story, or have any feedback, please do give me any comments! It is greatly appreciated. More comments also encourage me to write more. ;)


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